


Your Face is Your Fortune

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [4]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, F/F, Hair Brushing, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Trope de Trope, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27057421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Coffeeshop AU: Bernie Wolfe, former RAMC trauma surgeon, is not the world's greatest barista.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Kudos: 55





	Your Face is Your Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Anon for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 4. Coffee Shop AU and 94. Hair Brushing/Braiding

“You are, without a doubt, the worst barista that I’ve ever come across,” Serena Campbell, Bernie’s boss, tells her about three days after she agreed to employ the ex-army surgeon in her coffeeshop. “However, your face is your fortune, or at least your good fortune – there’s been a definite uptick in queer women customers since I took you on.”

Bernie gives her a baffled look. “How would anyone even know I’m a lesbian?”

Serena, and Dom and Donna, her two expert baristas, all chuckle at that. 

“Just look at you,” says Donna, with an up and down sweep of her hand. 

Bernie, ever obedient even after being invalided out of the Army, looks at herself. She’s wearing her trademark skinny black jeans, with a white vest top, and over the top of that a red checked flannel shirt. On her feet are Doc Martens and thick grey hiking socks, into which she’s tucked the bottoms of her jeans. 

“Do I look lesbian?” she asks doubtfully. 

“Darling, you don’t just look lesbian, you scream it,” Dom says, somewhat unhelpfully, Bernie feels.

“Should I change what I wear, then?”

Three voices simultaneously say ‘No’ in a very adamant tone.

“Do not, whatever you do, change the way you dress,” Serena says. “As I’ve said, we’ve had an uptick in queer women, and I want that to continue. So, as of lunchtime, you’re not only not required to go anywhere near the coffee machine, you are expressly forbidden to do so. Stick to serving customers and clearing tables. My only request is that you comb or brush your hair because it’s so unruly.”

“Oi,” Bernie says, a bit offended and totally forgetting that one shouldn’t say ‘Oi’ to your boss. “I do brush my hair. I just can’t do anything with it. It’s always been like this.”

Serena rolls her eyes. “Right. Finish your lunch, then back to work.”

Bernie nods, then takes a bite of her Mexican wrap, feeling relieved that she no longer has to wrestle with the coffee machine, which she’s convinced has been cursed by the Devil, it resisted her so regularly.

By 6pm Donna has gone, heading home to her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s young daughter; Dom is mopping the shop floor after putting all the chairs on the tables; Serena is checking the till; and Bernie is washing up the last of the crockery.

She startles, banging her knee on the door of the cupboard beneath the sink, when Serena sticks her head around the kitchen door and asks, “Got any plans for this evening?”

“None,” Bernie replies. Since her relationship with Alex Dawson, anaesthetist with the RAMC, and the reason Bernie finally admitted that she’s a lesbian, and got a divorce, Bernie hasn’t bothered with the dating scene, too daunted by all the ‘apps’ (whatever they are) she’s supposed to use. As a result, she never has any plans when she’s not working at the coffeeshop.

“Have dinner with me, then,” Serena says, in such a tone that the idea of refusing doesn’t even cross Bernie’s mind. 

“Uh, thanks.” Bernie can’t help wishing she could be more suave around gorgeous women, but the truth is, they generally reduce her to monosyllables, assuming she can even get her mouth to work in the first place, sometimes she’s simply too tongue-tied.

She finishes the washing up, then checks the inventory, ensuring that Serena and Dom have everything on hand for tomorrow morning’s early baking session before the shop opens.

Finding everything is in stock, she grabs her coat and satchel from their hook inside the little cloakroom that’s off the kitchen, then steps out into the coffeeshop: Dom has gone and Serena is leaning against the counter by the till, an intent look in her eyes, although her face lightens into her gorgeous smile at the sight of Bernie.

“You won’t need your coat,” Serena says as Bernie’s about to don her leather jacket.

“I won’t?” she asks doubtfully. The weather forecaster this morning had said they’d get a maximum temperature of three degrees during the day and talked about a heavy frost tonight.

“No. Come with me.” Serena makes a beckoning gesture with her forefinger, and Bernie follows her past the end of the counter and into the corner of the coffeeshop to a door that’s labelled ‘Private: Strictly No Admittance’, which Serena unlocks and leads her through.

Bernie is surprised to find a rather nice hallway with a door at the opposite end from where they stand, and a staircase.

“That’s my official front door,” Serena says, nodding to the door in question, before she grabs Bernie’s hand and leads her upstairs and into a spacious and tastefully furnished flat.

“I didn’t realise you live above the shop,” Bernie says, then adds, “It’s lovely.” Much nicer than her own post-divorce flat, that’s for sure.

“Leave your coat and bag there,” Serena says, pointing at the row of coat hooks at the head of the staircase. “And shoes off, please.”

Bernie hastens to obey, then follows Serena along the hallway and into the kitchen where, after checking Bernie eats it, she pulls two individual portions of beef lasagne from the freezer and sticks them into the oven to heat up, then she directs Bernie to put together a salad from ingredients in the fridge, while she prepares some garlic bread to go with the lasagne and salad.

The meal is incredibly good, and the conversation is casual but friendly while they eat and drink a lovely Shiraz with it. 

Afterwards they retire to the sitting room where Serena puts on some music at a volume that’s conducive to conversing without the need to shout. Then she disappears for a few moments, returning with a hairbrush, a hand mirror, and some hair products, and Bernie rolls her eyes, falling back against the sofa arm with a despairing groan.

“I warn you, Serena, you’re going to be wasting your time.”

Serena shakes her head, then makes Bernie sit on a beanbag in front of her armchair before she sets to work on brushing Bernie’s hair. 

“Your hair feels surprisingly soft, given that you dye it.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“I like it,” Serena says in a soft voice. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

Serena works for more than half an hour and Bernie discovers that she likes having her hair brushed and touched by someone else, it feels surprisingly soothing, and she eventually dozes off, her back resting against Serena’s knees as she works. 

She snaps awake when Serena squeezes her right shoulder and apologises with no small amount of embarrassment at having dozed off on her boss. She has to admit her hair now looks very professional, but she knows full well that it will be back to its usual disorder tomorrow, regardless of what she does to it.

She pushes to her feet and mumbles that she should be getting home, but Serena invites her to stay arguing that she’s too sleepy to drive safely across town. Bernie’s too tired to refuse, accepting a brand new toothbrush and a couple of towels from her boss in order to shower and clean her teeth.

When she emerges from the bathroom after completing her ablutions, a towel wrapped around her body and her clothes in her arms, Serena's waiting for her with a bundle of different clothing in her arms. 

"Figured you'd need these," she says. These, it turns out, are a pair of flannel pyjamas in a blue stripe that are actually long enough in the leg for Bernie, if a little on the baggy side. At Bernie's questioning expression, Serena elaborates. "Ex-boyfriend. Don't worry, they've been laundered."

"Thank you," Bernie says, hoping she's not blushing too much. Somehow the idea that she’s going to be wearing pyjamas that have been in bed with Serena is incredibly arousing. 

They awkwardly squeeze past each other in the hallway and Bernie goes to the guest room while Serena goes to shower. It takes all of Bernie's willpower not to contemplate a naked Serena in the shower Bernie just used while she herself is naked and drying herself off before donning the borrowed pyjamas. She predicts it's going to be a long night of trying to get to sleep while simultaneously trying not to contemplate Serena Campbell either naked in the shower or naked in her bed.

It's been a while since she’s had a crush this intense.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/629473665098121217/4-94-for-the-thingy-please).


End file.
